


Event Horizons (And Other Boundaries We Broke)

by Tawryn



Series: Event Horizons 'Verse [1]
Category: The Expanse (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, BDSM, Dom Camina Drummer, Dom Naomi Nagata, Dom/Dom, F/F, Mostly porn with a side of angst, Power Dynamics, Power Play, that one night on Tycho, the eXXXpanse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:54:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24236122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tawryn/pseuds/Tawryn
Summary: Things have always worked differently in the Belt. Here, far outside the reach of the EMCN, it matters less what your dynamic is and more what you do with it. Naomi Nagata is not one of those doms with a chip on their shoulder. She’s not thirsty to prove something to the universe.The only thing she’s thirsty to prove is how well Drummer can scream her name.
Relationships: Camina Drummer/Naomi Nagata
Series: Event Horizons 'Verse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1783636
Comments: 7
Kudos: 27





	Event Horizons (And Other Boundaries We Broke)

_  
“Care to put the ball to the wall?”_

Naomi doesn’t need to think twice about accepting Drummer’s invitation. It’s been ages since she’s set foot on a handball court, and when she catches sight of Drummer’s dynamic tattoo? A lick of heat comes alive in her stomach, and she thinks this is exactly what she needs.

Drummer is all limbs, long and lean like a good Belter should be. She moves with a predatory grace on the court, lunging for the ball, her arms striking out and connecting with a solid sound that echoes. Her face is carefully composed even here, eyes piercing and hostile, black as the vacuum of space. They light up in triumph whenever she scores.

Naomi really wants to fuck her.

She lets Drummer win just to hear her confident laugh. She counts the teeth Drummer bares in victory and thinks about them sinking into her flesh.

“What are you laughing about, loser?” Drummer chides, but her eyes are gleeful as she gives Naomi a hand up.

“It’s just, I feel good,” Naomi says. “It’s been a while.”

Drummer’s eyes rake over her. It feels like being split open.

“Come on,” Drummer says, brushing past Naomi with a touch that’s overly casual. “We should hydrate with some beers.”

The club is loud when they walk in. Naomi’s sweat-damp skin rises with goosebumps from the cool, recycled air being pumped in, but she knows she’ll be thankful for it once they’re drunk and dancing. It doesn’t take long. Drummer is pulling her out onto the floor before she’s barely finished her second beer.

Naomi allows herself to let go, the alcohol relaxing her movements. She dances just out of Drummer’s reach on purpose. The energy in the club is intoxicating and Naomi closes her eyes for a moment, soaking in the beat and letting herself be subsumed. When she opens them, Drummer is much, much closer and Naomi doesn’t want to be out of reach anymore.

Drummer takes hold of her hips and then they’re moving together, the music pounding in time with Naomi’s heartbeat. She stops trying to put her finger on whatever this impalpable thing building between them is, because suddenly Drummer is pulling Naomi’s pelvis flush against her thigh. Naomi knows that she’s trapped now, trapped in Drummer’s pull like an asteroid turned moon. The time for her to get away from this unscathed is gone; that event horizon has long passed.

A few wisps of hair tickle the side of Naomi’s face as Drummer leans in. There’s a heat growing everywhere their skin touches. The pressure of Drummer’s palms on her naked back is frustrating, too teasing and light.

Drummer has to shout to be heard over the din. “ _Milowda ando go xitim._ ”

It’s not a question and Naomi should be a little more furious at that, being told it’s time to leave instead of asked. Somehow, the flicker of irritation pales in comparison against the strength of her desire. Maybe she should be more alarmed. But Naomi is tired of what she should be.

“Are we?” Naomi retorts anyway, unable to let the challenge go unanswered.

Drummer pulls back a little, her eyes dark and magnetic. Naomi stares back as time dilates, everything around them falling away as their mouths come together in a fury. She can still taste the liquor on Drummer’s lips—acidic, sharp like Drummer’s cynicism. It’s a collision of wills, there’s no other way to describe it, kissing Drummer is consuming in a way that’s hard to parse. Naomi has an echo of her first spacewalk, the pure existential terror. No one can prepare you for it, the reality of the death and danger of space, but she’d chosen to face it anyway.

That’s a little bit how she feels right now.

She bites at Drummer’s lip and then jolts when she returns the favor, hard enough to draw first blood. Naomi’s knees soften, turning to water, and she feels an insane desire to let them buckle—but just as quickly, it disappears. Her heart races. 

She wrenches herself from Drummer’s grasp and stumbles back, needing to put some space between them. A trace of something ghosts across Drummer’s face, a sign that maybe she’s not as sure of herself as she appears, and maybe that’s the reassurance Naomi needs.

Naomi gestures to the exit with two fingers and then brushes over them with the same fingers on her right, lifting an eyebrow as if to say _well?_

The walk spinward to crew quarters is brutal. Naomi’s ears are still ringing from the loud music, but she doesn’t think that’s why they stay silent. She forces herself to follow two steps behind Drummer, disliking both the distance and the deference, but she needs to keep a clear head. Right now Naomi is an object perched on the edge of no return, nothing to stop her from collapsing under Drummer’s gravity. Hell if she’s going to go easy, and hell if she’s not going to take Drummer down with her.

A few muffled blows and cries filter into the hallway as they pass by what must be the station’s Dynamic Activity Rec Center, or wreck room. Naomi doesn’t miss the sidelong glance Drummer gives her and she gives one right back, a _don’t you fucking wish_ communicated with eyebrows and pursed mouth. They keep walking.

When they get to Drummer’s quarters, Naomi is kissing her before they’ve even stepped all the way through the door. She presses the length of her body against Drummer and is rewarded with a soft sound. It’s been so long since she’s done this. Longer still, with another woman. Drummer slides a hand into Naomi’s hair, fingertips gently cradling the base of her skull as their tongues glide together, hot and perfect.

Drummer’s hand tightens and grips, breaking the kiss and forcing Naomi’s head back. Even to her own ears Naomi’s breath sounds loud, chest heaving, her scalp tingling with pinpricks of pain. Naomi carefully does not think about her last time with another dom. Instead, she swallows and reaches out, wrapping Drummer’s braid around her own fingers, and pulls with a fierce delight. Drummer tenses suddenly and Naomi wonders if she’s misjudged, but then she relaxes with a low, throaty laugh.

“Oh,” Drummer says. “I’m going to destroy you, Nagata.”

The hand in Naomi’s hair applies some force and she mirrors it, instinctively posturing. Now they’re staring at one another, each holding the other there, a closed-loop current of _something_ running between them, something big. Naomi wonders if Drummer can feel it too. She bares her teeth in a smile.

“The feeling is mutual.”

Her hands are aching with the need to explore every inch, to mess Drummer up. But the frozen expanse between them just continues on, both of them locked in and waiting to see who’ll break first.

It’s Drummer who finally moves. She lets go of Naomi’s hair and trails her hands down, slowly skimming the tips of her fingers over Naomi’s shirt. Naomi exhales softly when Drummer drags a fingernail over her nipple. It feels good to let the last few months fade away.

Naomi relaxes her grip and Drummer leans down, rucking up her top. She shivers, nipples tightening in the cool air, and then groans in appreciation when Drummer’s hot mouth closes over one. Drummer gives her a hint of teeth and she gasps, the sensation going straight to her cunt.

“More,” Naomi demands.

Drummer looks up at her with a wicked glint in her eyes. She gives Naomi exactly that, sucking and biting and pinching until Naomi is biting back whimpers, her stomach muscles trembling with the effort to stand still. Naomi pulls her up and kisses her hotly. Their aggression is making it messy, both of them eager and demanding, unwilling to give in. She hisses when Drummer thumbs over her hard and aching nipples. Naomi feels Drummer smile against her mouth, and so she leans her weight in, forcing Drummer to take a step back.

She pulls back enough to say, “My turn,” and then pushes Drummer into the wall hard enough to make her grunt into the kiss.

Drummer doesn’t give easily though, and Naomi is glad for it. This wouldn’t be as good if she did. She shivers when Drummer’s hand wraps around her throat, intense and possessive, her thumb resting on a pressure point under her jaw. Naomi has used that one herself many times, digging her thumb in, forcing her subs to go where she likes. Her stomach flutters in a way that makes her feel uncomfortably exposed. She brushes the feeling aside and reaches for Drummer’s free arm, twisting and pinning it up at the small of her back.

The hand at Naomi’s throat squeezes; the ache between her legs throbs in response.

She’s overwhelmed with the desire to touch and abandons her patience, sliding her hand into Drummer’s pants—her underwear is soaked through and Naomi has to breathe through a dizzying stab of want. Trailing her fingers teasingly over the thin fabric, Naomi swallows each low noise that Drummer makes.

“Touch me,” Drummer says.

“I am.”

“ _Pashang fong,_ ” she snaps. “Touch me for real.”

Naomi grins and slips her hand under the elastic. She strokes gently over every slick place, every curve and crevice, smearing Drummer’s wet arousal as she pants and shudders, gasping into Naomi’s mouth.

“Fuck,” Drummer moans, grinding into the heel of her palm.

“Yeah?” Naomi knows she sounds insufferably smug. “Good?”

Drummer doesn’t answer, just rocks against her hand. Naomi pushes back with her palm, spreading her fingers, giving her more pressure. This close, Naomi can hear every hitch of her breath and she revels in it, the satisfaction swelling in her chest. Drummer’s hand drops from her throat and slides down over the soft flesh of Naomi’s hip. Naomi can tell she’s getting close. When she comes, Drummer tightens all over, her fingers ruthless as they press hard into Naomi’s skin.

Tomorrow, she’s going to touch the bruises on her hip and remember this—the vulnerability in Drummer’s face, the way her body trembles in the aftermath. She watches Drummer’s breathing slow and glories in her victory.

She celebrates a little too much, because she’s caught off guard when Drummer pulls them down to the bunk. Naomi lets out a strangled gasp when her ass hits the bed. Drummer slides behind her, one powerful arm holding both of hers in a vice. She snakes her other hand down into Naomi’s pants.

“You _pensa_ _tili tenye_ this, _ke?_ ” Drummer goads, her fingers circling gentle and fast. “You own _nating_ right now, Nagata.”

“Fuck,” Naomi manages, voice strained.

Drummer touches her like she knows Naomi’s body better than herself. She gasps when Drummer slips another finger inside her, the filthy wet sounds nearly loud enough to drown out the persistent rush of breath in Naomi’s ear. She is losing grip, trembling with every glide of her clit against Drummer’s palm. Naomi bucks her hips and makes an embarrassingly high, needy sound in her throat. She sucks in a breath and holds it to stop it from happening again.

Drummer’s tongue licks over her nape and then she’s biting down, teeth as vicious as her hand is gentle.

“Give it to me,” she snarls into Naomi’s neck. “Come.”

Naomi does, vision graying and lungs ablaze, frozen in the first throb of orgasm. Then the air escapes, sucked out of her like a vacuum, and she gasps for more, shuddering. Drummer’s fingers work her through it until she’s a squirming, overstimulated mess. Finally, Drummer pulls her hand away and they slide down the bed until they’re lying flat, twisted together and sticky.

They share a lazy kiss, the intense hunger between them momentarily pacified. Naomi’s shirt is bunched uncomfortably above her tits, and she tugs it back down without a second thought. Drummer makes a displeased sound as her teeth tug playfully at Naomi’s ear.

“Just take it off.”

Naomi laughs. “In a minute.”

Drummer rolls over and props her head up on her fist. She draws a design, tickling and slow, over Naomi’s stomach with her finger. Naomi watches it travel. She thinks she’s ready to go again, considers stripping Drummer out of her pants and putting her mouth on her clit—she was so quiet before, but Naomi bets she can use her tongue to draw out something more vocal—

“Kneel for me this time,” Drummer whispers, ruining it.

A chill sweeps over Naomi, her stomach sinking without warning. Drummer’s finger has turned oppressive on her skin, heavy, though Naomi knows the gravity hasn’t changed. She suddenly wants it to stop.

“Why would I do that?” she asks lightly, trying to fight it, keeping her gaze trained on her stomach. Her skin is crawling now, the touch intolerable.

“Why do anything?” Drummer teases. “Because you like it.”

Naomi’s mouth is dry and sour. She shrugs Drummer off, reaching her limit, and walks over to the sink to get a drink. Her heartbeat is hammering in her ears as she flips the tap a little too hard and takes a few gulps. Fuck. Her fingers still smell like Drummer’s pussy.

“I don’t like it,” she says.

She keeps her back to Drummer as she washes her hands in the sink. Now that it’s happened, she realizes this is exactly what she was afraid of. When she turns around, Naomi finds that Drummer’s sitting up. She’s watching with sharp eyes, so dark that they seem to bore down into the hidden parts of her.

“I think you’re lying to yourself,” Drummer says, shrugging her hands.

Naomi points to the dynamic tattoo on her neck. “I _don’t_ like it.”

Drummer makes a face and brings her hand up in a familiar gesture, her fingers forceful as they spread apart— _kaka felota_. Bullshit.

“ _Sheng_ or _nasheng_ , that tattoo doesn’t say shit. It doesn’t tell you how to feel.”

“No.” Naomi crosses her arms. “You’re the one doing that right now.”

Drummer finally shuts up.

The room feels so much smaller now, the air bitter and hostile. Naomi’s body is heavy and full of tension. She knows now there isn’t going to be a next time.

“Maybe you spend too much time with those inners,” Drummer says, slowly. “Forget how _beltalowda_ think.”

The words hit Naomi like the lash of a whip, leaving a sting in their wake. She balls up her fists as the anger flares.

“Oh, that so?” she snaps. “Now I’m _welwala_ just because I won’t kneel?”

Her voice is loud, too loud, echoing in a room that keeps growing smaller. Naomi takes a slow, steadying breath and tries to rein it in. It’s been a while since she’s lost control like this. Drummer’s gaze is probing, her head cocked to the side, and Naomi can’t stand to meet her eyes.

“I’m a dom. I don’t need to kneel for anyone.”

It’s something an inner would say, and Naomi hates herself for it. She can sense Drummer watching her and hears the next words in her head before they even leave Drummer’s mouth.

“ _Fosh wowk natim setóp_ , Nagata,” Drummer murmurs.

The satisfaction of being right doesn’t drown out how much she hates the saying.

“Yeah, well,” Naomi laughs, hearing the edge in it. “It’s stopped for me.”

She forces herself to take in a deep lungful of air and draw up to her full height. It’s a confidence she doesn’t feel, but Naomi’s no stranger to faking it. No one can ever tell anyway. When she gets to the door, she hears an intake of breath, like Drummer is getting ready to say something, but nothing comes. The moment just stretches on, full of familiar and heavy unease.

The urge to turn around is there, but Naomi takes it and makes it small. She knows how to bury things deep.

When she walks out of Drummer’s quarters, she doesn’t look back.

**Author's Note:**

> Don’t listen to Naomi—this is only the beginning.
> 
> Lang Belta definitions can be found here at my [tumblr](https://tawryn.tumblr.com/post/620661658640154624/event-horizons-verse-lang-belta-masterpost).


End file.
